I got my story back from being marked today - it got an ‘A’, so I don’t mind publishing it here NB: the lame personalised licence plate is only in there because it was one of the items we had to work into the story.

Bryant Road

I.

The river was called the Wairoa - this meant ‘big water’, which was probably a lie or a joke of some sort, as there were only a few spots where the water was over your head. Mostly, the river ran shallow over round grey rocks and sparkled in the sun, which was why someone had named the town Brightwater. The best place for swimming was down the end of Bryant Road, where the tar seal ended and the road changed to gravel and turned to follow the river.

By the end of the long summer the river had shrunk from its banks, leaving the round grey rocks plastered with weed that dried to fibrous grey mats in the sun. Blair scrambled up the bank and waited, scuffing his feet, for the other two to catch up. After a few moments, Jason came pounding round the corner, scaling the crumbling slope with more difficulty. Last was Godzilla, who clambered up awkwardly, little paws skidding, wheezing excitedly; the river was his favourite place in the world, pungent with the promise of rabbits.
Jason brushed some of the dust off his pants. “Blai-air! Mum said stay off this part of the road! I don’t wanna make her mad with me! I saw her crying a bit in the laundry, before.” He looked imploringly at his older brother, but Blair wasn’t backing down.
“I don’t care - you wanna see where they do the burnouts, right? Anyway, who’s gonna tell her?” He started walking. Godzilla followed, and, after a moment, so did Jason. They kept going for a few hundred metres, until they caught a whiff of burning brake-pads on the humid air, and could hear a car engine revving high and frantic. The boys were full of fearful bravado at the thought of those battered machines screeching ’round corners, narrowly avoiding disaster at every turn. Godzilla, true to his Jack Russell nature, ran from tree to grass clump to tree as fast as his arthritic paws could carry him, hoping to flush out something he could chase.
Blair kicked at an empty beer can. then looked up.
“Hey, I think there’s a car!”
Jason looked where Blair was pointing and saw a cloud of dust rising up a little way in front of them, curving swiftly to the left, away from the river.
“Yeah! Quick, let’s go see!” he cried, all thought of Mum’s wrath forgotten, and the three of them ran further down the road to the small parking area where the picnic tables were, planted in a patch of grass that was now torn up where the car had been doing doughnuts. They could hear its engine far down the river.
“It’s going away from us” said Jason.
“Yeah, but they have to come back” replied Blair. “I went all the way up there on my bike one time, up where the river meets the other river, and the road bends round and goes along the other river, and it comes out onto the main road near the bridge.”
Jason sat down at the nearest picnic table and idly scratched at the wood with a bottle cap. “Man, when I’m bigger I’ll come down here all the time. I’ll have a real fast car and do burnouts and I won’t have to listen to Mum - hey, she won’t know we came down here eh?”
“Not if you don’t tell her! And my car’s gonna be faster. I’ll be the fastest driver in the world and go to Australia and win Bathurst.”
“Well, I’m gonna be the fastest driver in the UNIVERSE!”
“Shut up! Will not.”
“You shut up!”
“You. I’m older.”
Godzilla barked.
“Hey!” said Jason, “He’s after a rabbit!” The little dog had never actually managed to catch a rabbit, but he loved to chase them all the same. This one, more than a match for him, was zigzagging excitedly back down the road in the direction the boys had walked, with Godzilla in pursuit. Blair and Jason ran after him, yelling encouragement. Godzilla was closing on his prey, but the rabbit, sensing it was pushing its luck, darted off in earnest and disappeared. Its pursuers came to a panting halt. They didn’t hear the car coming around the corner until it was almost too late. Jason shouted and Blair scooped up Godzilla and they dove into the prickly roadside scrub as a dirty black Commodore screeched ’round the bend in a spray of stones. The big car ground to a halt fifty metres up the road, and the driver opened his door. There was a blast of hardcore house music. The teenage driver stuck his head out and peered through the clearing dust, saw no-one on the road, yelled something to a passenger, pulled his head back in and slammed the door as the Holden took off again. Its number plate read “F4ST3R”.

“Shit,” groaned Blair from his gorse bush, “Mum’s gonna kill us if she finds out.”

II.

Helen was standing at the kitchen table folding the laundry, and trying not to think about Russell, but it wasn’t working. How long had it been - a month? No, three weeks - since that day when she’d looked at the pile of bills on the table, looked at him, and lost it. He’d said nothing while she tore into him, just sat there looking at his shoes. She’d grabbed a handful of paper and thrust it in his face -
“How the hell are we going to pay this, Russell? Answer me! Where’s the money going to come from? Not from the TAB! Not from the fucking pokies!” And still he’d said nothing; had sat there like he was deaf until she threw the bills back on the table and stormed off to their bedroom. She’d stuffed all of his clothes that would fit into a black nylon sports bag and lugged it back into the lounge. She’d dropped the bag at his feet. He’d looked at her blankly.
“Babe, don’t do this…”
“Russ, you have to go. I need you to go.”
“Where-”
“I don’t know! I don’t care! Just - just go! Don’t come back until you can care more about your family than you do about winning the next bet!” And she’d pushed him out the door. He’d got obediently into his car, sat in it for a while, staring into space, then finally turned the key and driven…somewhere. Helen had sunk into a chair, all her anger spent, and listened to the tyres churning down the gravel driveway, grinding her hopes into the dry summer dirt…

Mum, can I have a ice block?
Mum?
“MUM, can I have a ice block?”
Helen blinked, and realised Jonelle was tugging the hem of her t-shirt. “Oh, honey, we just had lunch. Wait for a bit, okay?”
“Aww! Daddy woulda let me! I miss Daddy, when’s he coming back, Mum?”
Helen sighed. How did you explain this sort of thing to a five-year-old? They were never happy with simple answers.
“It’s like I told you the other day… Daddy had to go away for a while, and I don’t know when he can come back, so we just have to be real patient and wait for-”
“But why’d Daddy have to go? Is it ’cause you were cross with him all the time?”
“No! No, that’s not why.”
“Is it ’cause I was bad and I drawed on the wall at school and Mrs Oates made me sit in the corridor for five minutes? Is it ’cause ‘Zilla pooed in the house and Dad got real mad and he kicked him and-”
“Look, how about that ice block, eh?” Helen walked over to the freezer. “Did you want raspberry or lemonade?”
“Um, um, I waaaant… raspberry!” Helen handed the iceblock to Jonelle, who skipped off to the back yard, all questions put on hold for the moment. Did avoiding the issue like that make her a bad mother? Her own mother would probably say it did. But hell, she didn’t want to be the bad guy all the time. Russell, though - he’d let the kids get away with murder. The big, soft-hearted…hopeless, bloody stupid… God, she was crying again. Where the hell was he?

Two grazed, dusty boys and a elderly terrier crept through the gate, ’round the back of the house, and through the laundry door. The coast was clear; Mum must be down the other end of the house. Godzilla headed for his waterbowl, and Jason and Blair started down the hallway to their room.
“Shh - take your shoes off, Jason! Mum’ll hear you!”
Then Godzilla trotted past them and into the kitchen, and Mum stuck her head into the hallway.
“Hi boys, what’cha up to?” She did a double-take. “Where’ve you been? Look at you! You’re absolutely covered in dirt - don’t leave those shoes there - Jason, is that blood? Where’d you get all scratched up like that?”
“Nowhere…”
“Just down the river.”
“Boys, you better not have been down that road where those idiots race their cars. Look at me.”
Blair looked at the floor. Jason looked at his shoes.
“Bloody hell, you were down there, weren’t you?! Blair! What did I tell you?”
“Don’t go there without an adult…”
“And why not?”
“Cause it’s dangerous - but we’re okay, Mum!”
“Yeah, we’re okay. The car didn’t get us” added Jason - then he realised what he’d said and shut up quickly.
“What? What car? You mean you nearly got run over? Right, that is the absolute last straw! You two are grounded. You’re not to leave the section, understand? Not for a minute, until I’ve figured out what your punishment’s going to be. You got that?”
“Yeah.”
“Mum, you’re treating me like a baby!”
“Blair! I’m this close to shipping you off to live with Grandma. Don’t push your luck!” It was an empty threat, but he got the point. Grandma made you eat Brussels sprouts, and go to bed at seven o’clock, and told you off if you made too much noise.
“Yes, Mum.” Blair slumped off to the lounge, where Jason was making a Lego spaceship and Jonelle was teaching her Barbie doll how to say the alphabet. He picked up a comic book, flipped a few pages and was soon engrossed in the adventures of Spider-man.

“Godzilla!” Helen whistled. “Zilla! Tea time!” There was no reply. “You boys did remember to shut the gate, didn’t you?”
Blair considered this question. “Um… I dunno.” He walked around the side of the house and had a look. The gate was wide open. “No! Sorry Mum!”
“Blair, go and find that dog of yours. I’ve got too many things I have to do here.”
“But Mum, you said I have to stay here!”
She sighed heavily. “Look, just go and find him - he won’t have got far. But you be careful on that road. And you’re still grounded when you get back, understand? No Jason, you stay here.”
Blair took off out the front door, heading in the direction of the river. Helen watched him through the window. He really was just like her. Willful. Like how she’d married Russ, when her mother and her friends were all saying how hopeless he was, how he’d never be able to hold down a job… but she’d wanted to, and that had been that. She turned to go and do the ironing.
There was a familiar sound of tyres on the driveway.
“Dad!” yelled Jason. “Hey, Jonelle, Dad’s here! Dad’s come back!”
And he ran outside. Helen stood there, staring through the kitchen window as Russell’s beaten-up Toyota ute pulled up to the house.

III.

Blair was pretty sure he knew where Godzilla had run off to. He followed Bryant road down to the river, to where the seal ended, where it turned to the left. He looked down the road and, sure enough, the dog was there - far off, and padding back towards the picnic area.
“Hey! ‘Zilla!” Blair called, and whistled, but Godzilla either didn’t hear, or was ignoring him. He started jogging down the road.

“So,” said Russell from the doorway, “How you been, Hels?” He was hesitant about stepping inside; Helen had stayed where she was while the two younger children had run outside to hug their Dad. Right now, Jason was pulling on his arm, trying to get him to come into the house. The other arm was holding Jonelle, and her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.
“How’ve I been? Where have you been? Look, come in - Jason, leave your Dad be.” Russell stepped in and sat in a kitchen chair.
“Kids, can you go play outside? Your Mum and me need to talk.” Jason and Jonelle bounced out the front door.
“I went and stayed with my mate Stu from work for a couple of days; then I took a week off from work and went and stayed with Mum and Dad down in Rangiora. And now I’m in that motel down the road. I’ve been there all week, tryin’ to figure out what to say to you.”
“And what’ve you got to say, Russ?”
He looked her in the eye. “Jeez, Helen, I’ve been a bloody idiot. I knew I was spending all our money, but I kept thinking - gotta keep on playing, y’know, and maybe I’d win it back… Anyway, I want to get help. And I need you, babe - can I come back?”

Blair was close enough for Godzilla to hear him. “Oi! Come here, you bad dog! Godzilla!” The guilty party stopped in his tracks and looked back over a hairy shoulder at the approaching boy. But just as Blair caught up, a rabbit darted out of the bushes behind them and bounded down the road. Godzilla couldn’t help himself, and tore off after it. The three of them ran right through the picnic area, towards the point where the two rivers met and the road turned again. As the dog approached the bend, the dirty black Holden Commodore from earlier in the day flew around the corner and ran right over the top of him. Blair, well back from the corner, watched it happen in slow motion. Then the car roared past him and the driver, oblivious to what had happened, yelled “Get outta the road!” through his window. Blair sprinted to where his dog lay. Godzilla’s eyes were wide open and he was breathing fast and shallow. He looked alright, except for the thin trickle of blood starting from his mouth and nostrils.
“Godzilla! No, no, Godzilla…” Blair stroked his wiry little head. The dog whined feebly. Then, his eyes glazed over and that was that.

Helen had anticipated Russell’s plea. In the last three weeks, she’d anticipated every possible scenario. This was one of the better ones. Still, she didn’t want to get her hopes up.
“Russ, you know how much you hurt me… I always just wished you’d talk about the things you were worried about, but you wouldn’t… and then, all the money you borrowed from people; it’s going to be years before we pay that back, even though I can work more now that Jonelle’s at school… but I’m glad you want to get help, Russ. I’ll just have to think about this for a day or two.”
The gate creaked, and Russell looked out the window.
“Hey, here’s Blair. What’s that he’s carrying?

Under a thin layer of topsoil, the ground was heavy clay. It was dark by the time Russell had finished digging, but he finally had a hole about two feet deep. Helen laid Godzilla’s favourite old, gnawed sheepskin rug in the bottom, and Russell carefully lowered the blanket-wrapped body on top of it.
“I reckon someone should say a few words”, said Russell. He looked at the kids.
Blair blinked back tears, and sniffed. “He was a good dog. He liked to chase things, and he was always happy, and he was my friend.”
Jason nodded, and mumbled “Yeah.”
Helen just said, “I’ll miss ya, mate”, and hugged the two boys.
“Daddy, when can ‘Zilla come back?” sobbed Jonelle.
“Aw, hon - he can’t come back now. He’s in doggy heaven.”
“But you went away, and you came back!”
“Shh. It’s okay. ‘Zilla can’t come back, but I’m staying”. He looked at Helen, just to be sure. She met his gaze, held it; mouthed “We’ll see.”
“Hey, do you remember how he got his name?” said Blair.
“Sure, mate,” said Russell. “When we got him from the SPCA he didn’t have a name. But that first day when we got him home, he saw a cat and raced after it, and he ran right through your lego city. Smashed it up. And I said, we’ll have to call him Godzilla!”
“And me and Jason didn’t know what Godzilla was, so we got the video out,” said Blair. “It was cool!”

Jonelle, Jason and Blair had fallen asleep on the couch, and Russell had gone back to his motel for the night, with the understanding he could come home the next day - maybe - after she’d thought about it a bit more, anyway. Helen didn’t have the heart to wake the kids, so she sat in the armchair across the room and watched them. Blair was in the middle, a protective arm wrapped around the other two. God, he was growing up fast. She sighed, and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.